


Gay chicken

by Arabwel



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: And that's how they got banned from the Jungle, Dirty Talk, Gay Chicken, M/M, Public Hand Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-15 02:20:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7202381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arabwel/pseuds/Arabwel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris and Peter play gay chicken. Shenanigans ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gay chicken

**Author's Note:**

> *Glomps Snarry4Ever long and hard* Happy glompfest, darling! I hope you enjoy this! 
> 
> Much thanks for all the people who helped me with this <3

Peter isn’t quite sure how it starts, but he knows there is something that sets Argent off - something about being called a _straight boy_ that has the hunter chuckle, has him step forward with an eyebrow raised in challenge. 

A challenge Peter will gladly accept. This isn’t the first time he’s played gay chicken, and he plays to win. His lips curl in a smirk, the knowledge that he’s got the upper hand here thrumming through his veins. He lets his eyes linger blatantly, because for all his faults, Argent is a fine specimen of manhood. Especially his arms, hidden under too many layers as they are. 

“Cat got your tongue, Hale?” 

Peter licks his lips, tilts his head to the side a fraction - not enough to bare his neck to a hunter, but enough to suggest. “Hardly. 

Argent takes another step forward, closing the distance between them from feet to mere inches. Maybe he expects Peter to take a step back, to forget the bar is just behind him and bruise himself against the polished wood, but Peter has no intention of losing, especially not in front of an audience. 

He can feel the eyes on them, the anticipation sizzling in the air even over the harsh beat of the music. He thinks some of them expect to be disappointed, expect that this will dissolve before they even touch. After all, the tension in Argent’s shoulders in the face of Peter’s insolent sprawl and come-hither eyes doesn’t have quite the same impact when one doesn’t see _hunter_ , just a straight guy. But Peter knows Argent is only trying to intimidate; that despite all that repression and self-loathing, the hunter isn’t a closet case on top of all the daddy issues. So many buttons to push, so little time. 

Peter half expects Argent to make some horrible pun about putting his tongue to better use; instead, the hunter just smiles, teeth gleaming white under the artificial lights. “Really now,” he murmurs, voice rough in a way that sends a shiver down Peter’s spine. 

He doesn’t resist when the hunter moves closer to bracket Peter with his arms, leans close enough for the wolf to smell the whiskey in his breath mingled with the gunpowder and wolfsbane ingrained in his skin. In a voice too low for a mere human to hear, he whispers, “I think you just don’t want to admit how much you want this.” 

Peter gasps when Argent bites his earlobe, tugs at it hard enough to hurt before his tongue snakes out to lave at the red marks. He can feel the huff of warm air on his skin as the hunter chuckles, can feel himself flushing, the heat blossoming in his gut. He reaches out in retaliation, hookings his fingers in Argent’s belt loops and yanking the hunter close, close enough to feel just what he is doing to Peter. 

He expects Argent to recoil, to tense and push away. To admit his loss, to go all no homo, fuck, to pull out a gun and try to shoot him, anything but this. He doesn’t expect the hunter to grind against Peter in a way that is positively obscene, the fact that he’s just as hard under the rough denim impossible to deny. 

**

Chris’s grin has more wolf in it than it ought to when he sees Hale’s eyes widen, sees the pupils blown wide with adrenaline and arousal. It’s laughably easy to insinuate a thigh between the wolf’s legs, to elicit a gasp when Hale, when _Peter_ can’t help it, can’t help humping Chris’s leg like a bitch in heat. 

The wolf looks good like this, spreading his legs for a hunter. It’s on the tip of Chris’s tongue to tell him so, but he thinks it’s too soon, doesn’t want to risk spooking Peter into backing off, into faking a graceful loss in lieu of letting Chris get the upper hand .

There’s a loud whoop somewhere on the background - fucking _Greenberg_ \- when Peter’s hands find their way under Chris’s shirt, nails too sharp to be human scoring red welts down his sides. Chris hisses and retaliates, one hand coming up to grasp Peter by the hair, to yank his head back so Chris can lean in and put his mouth on that ridiculously thick neck. The noise Peter makes goes straight into Chris’s dick, makes him that much harder when he grinds against the wolf, grabs hold of that perfect ass hard enough to bruise. 

“This - this the best you got, Argent?” Peter’s voice is breathy and high-pitched. “Can’t even - can’t even kiss on the mouth.” 

Chris’s lips curve into a smile against the wolf’s spit-slick skin. “Maybe I’ve got better use for your mouth.”

“Only if you fancy having it bitten off -” 

Peter’s response gives Chris the perfect opportunity to shut him the fuck up with his mouth, to lick his way in and taste the whiskey and a hint of wolfsbane. Peter moans into the kiss, his body rigid before he fucking arches off the bar and into Chris like his life depended on it. 

The wolf looks dazed when Chris pulls back, lips red and swollen and Chris thinks about how they will look wrapped around his cock, how that plush lower lip was made for it. He says as much and Peter growls, low in his chest like the wild animal he is. 

Slowly and deliberately, Chris shifts so Peter’s hips are no longer quite as flush with his, giving his right hand the space needed to brush against the hard bulge under the denim, eliciting another breathless noise from the wolf. He holds Peter’s gaze even as he slowly and deliberately tugs open the fly, not bothering with the belt. He’s not surprised at all that Peter’s not wearing any underwear as he feels the heated flesh being freed. 

“Go on,” He says as he lifts his hand to Peter’s face. “Lick it. Make it nice and smooth when I jerk you off.” 

Peter’s eyes flash in challenge and _fuck_ , the way the wolf swirls his tongue around Chris’s fingers is obscene, as is the moan only stifled when Peter tries to pull Chris’ fingers into his mouth, tries to suck them into that too-hot cavern. He’s having a hard time remembering he can’t just push the wolf down, can’t put Peter on his knees right here and now. 

“None of that,” Chris’s voice is rough when he pulls his hand away, when he feels the barest hint of fang against his fingertips, drawing a bereft noise from the wolf that seems almost surprised by it. Before Peter can protest, Chris drops his hand down, wraps his slick hand around Peter’s cock and closes the gap between their bodies. 

It’s a tight fit but it hides what he’s doing, makes it less obvious that he’s got Peter’s leaking dick in his hand as the wolf’s hands scramble for purchase on his shoulders, breath coming in hot, wet pants against Chris’s neck. 

“I’m gonna jack you till you come,” Chris growls in the wolf’s ear, his grip almost too tight for what little slick there is but Peter still moans, body trembling against his “You’re going to spill in my hand, and then you’re going to lick it all off, get a taste for when I take you out back and - fuck - your - mouth-” His words are punctuated by vicious twists of his hand and that’s enough to make Peter moan and shudder as he comes in a hot, wet rush, cock flexing in Chris’s grip. 

The wolf looks wrecked when Chris lifts his hand up, not bothering to tuck Peter back in. His eyes are wide and dark with lust, pupils blown hue by arousal and orgasm. His lips part eagerly when Chris shoves his fingers in, white trailing across his chin glistening too bright in the artificial lights. Blacklight, Chris thinks, but he doesn’t care, doesn’t care about the fact that their audience is hooting and hollering; all he cares about is getting his dick in Peter Hale’s mouth right the fuck now-- 

****

“... and then he broke the bouncer's nose so that’s why your dad and Peter are now banned from the Jungle.” Lydia finished her explanation with a devilish smirk. “That’s what you missed by being late.” 

Allison groaned and dropped her head in her hands. “I’m staying at yours tonight.”


End file.
